Tales of War
by uniabocetaP
Summary: Check the first chapter for Summary of each short story! Stories of people that had to go through the horrors of the War of the Ring or the events leading up to them. Each story is stand alone. Characters featured are Eomer, Eowyn, Theodred, Lothiriel, Imrahil, Amrothos, Elphir, Erchirion, Denethor.
1. Chapter Summaries

**AN:** _As each chapter is a separate story, I thought it might be easier to find to add in the beginning the description of each chapter, as well as the main characters that participate in that one. Chapters are presented here in order they were published, starting with the first published._

 _Latest one: **Death in my hand**_

 _Reviews, or suggestions are always welcome._

 **Death and the Maiden**

Rohan 2017TA. Éomer tries to save a maiden.

Eomer, OC

 **There was a strangeness in the horn**

Rohan 3019TA. Eowyn welcomes her brother back.

Eowyn, Eomer, Theodred

 **Fight or Flight**

Fords of Isen, 3019TA. Theodred ponders what to fight for.

Theodred

 **Look at your Kingdoms**

Belfalas, 3014TA. Imrahil is informed of intruders.

Imrahil, OCs

 **Something wicked this way comes**

Dol Amroth 3016TA. Lothiriel notices trouble approaching.

Lothiriel, Imrahil, OCs

 **Back hand of the God**

Pelennor Fields 3019TA. After the Battle Amrothos wondered why the Gods are so cruel.

Amrothos, OC

 **Cursed who sees, cursed who does not**

Minas Tirith, 3003TA. Denethor II has to decide whether to use a perilous device he has in his possession.

Denethor, Boromir, Faramir

 **Marching Day**

Dol Amroth 3019TA. Lothiriel had to say her farewells.

Lothiriel, Imrahil, Amrothos, Erchirion, Elphir

 **All shall fade**

Edoras 3019TA. Eowyn decided to go to war.

Eowyn

 **Stars hide your fires**

Dol Amroth, 3015TA. Imrahil worries about his wife.

Imrahil, Elphir, OC

 **Wild Hunt**

Edoras, goes Orc hunting

Eomer, Eowyn, Grima, Eothain

 **The Iron Price**

Osgiliath 3017TA. Boromir wonders why to keep fighting.

Boromir, OC

 **Beauty is Terror**

Edoras, 3016TA. Eowyn tries to help a girl. CAUTION! Rape implied but not graphic details.

Eowyn, Eomer, OC

 **Blood is thicker than water**

Fields of Pelennor 3019TA. Erchirion has to make a choice.

Erchirion, Elphir

 **Heal**

Houses of healing, 3019TA. Aragorn visits Eowyn one more time before he marches to the Black Gate.

Aragorn, Eowyn

 **Why are you crying?**

East Emnet, 3002TA. Eowyn's mama is crying.

Eowyn, Eomer,OC

 **Death in my hand**

Ithilien, 3008 TA. Faramir's first kill.

Faramir

 **Bloody thu art, bloody thu end**

Fords of Isen, 3019TA. Theodred fell off his horse.

Theodred


	2. Death and the Maiden

**_Death and the Maiden_**

 _AN: EDITED._ _Éomer_ _tries to save a maiden. Written for the Terrifying Tolkien Week, Day 1._

 **Rohan, TA 3017**

The fires were still burning and the smoke filled both the air and his lungs. Screams of pain and laments of death reached his ears. This was not the first village it was burned down by the Uruk-hai; it was not the first place to suffer from their enemies. He wished he had the power to wipe out all those who wished his people harm, but he was just a Marshal of the Mark.

He walked through the village, trying to keep Firefoot calm. The blood and the smell made the horse's adrenaline rise. He was barely calm; the slaughter of the Uruk-hai's was not easy and was definitely not timely. When he saw the dismantled body of a young child, he wished he could kill them one more time. He wished the report had reached him on time. He wished that he had arrived earlier. _I am sorry,_ he thought and he hoped that the boy could hear him.

Suddenly, a cry reached his ears. It was a long heartbreaking shriek and it was the most painful thing he had listened in his short life. Éomer searched for the source of the lament. Soon, he saw a young woman rocking herself back forth on the ground. She had her arms wrapped around her waist in a vain effort to comfort herself. Her long, blond hair was covering her face, but he had no doubt that it was marked with tears. Her screams made his stomach turn. For some reason he found it way more terrifying than the battle cries. He wished he could take her pain away.

Éomer moved closer to her, in a vain hope of comforting her. When he reached her, he noticed a body on the ground. The young man could have been sleeping if not for his guts lying next to him and the unnatural position of his limbs. The young Marshal was struck by the serenity of his face; it was neither scared nor distorted by pain. For some reason the young man was calm the last seconds of his life.

As he reached the woman, she moved closer to the body. Without stopping crying, she tried to put the man's guts back into his body. She was in shock and could not think clearly. Éomer had to help her. _I could not help him, but I can help you,_ he thought as he knelt next to her. He touched her lightly on the shoulder, as gently as he could. He did not wish to terrify her. He was not surprised though when she pulled herself away in terror; he would have acted the same if he had gone through the same horrors. He did not want to imagine how horrible it would be to witness the destruction of your whole world.

"Please, do not worry. I am here to help you" said in a soothing voice the Third Marshal holding his hands in the air. When she understood that he was not a foe, she fall to his knees.

"Please, please, I beg you!" she started pleading with him through her sobs. "Please, please do something for him! Save him!"

Éomer did not have to check for a breath to know that the man was dead. "I am afraid he has joined his forefathers in their halls".

"No! It cannot be! He must be alive, he must live. Fram is good, Fram will be the best smith of this town! We will get married tomorrow and we will have a lot of children… you must help me! He cannot leave me as well!" she cried. She was clawing her eyes now and Éomer hold her hands to prevent her from hurting herself.

"I am so sorry. Fram is dead. Nothing can bring him back".

"No! He said all will be as it should be, he promised he would stay alive! He promised he will not leave me alone" wailed the maiden and she broke Éomer's heart.

"He has gone, but you must be brave, for Fram's sake, for your family." Éomer tried to encourage, but how can he? If he knew, he could have saved his mother all those years ago.

"I have no one left, all is dead. My sweet Fram was my last family, my last tie to this world. What will happen of me now? What reason do I have to live while my betrothed, my mother and my father and my sweet little sister are all dead? I have no one to live for".

"Listen to me," he raised her chin so he could stare into her eyes "You _will_ survive, there is always something to live for. Do not wield to our enemies wishes. Chose to live. Come with me and help us avenge the people you love".

The maiden had stopped crying, she was looked calmer, but Éomer could see that her stare was dead. He hoped that his words had reached her soul, but he was not very hopeful. "What is your name?"

"Éohil"

"Éohil, let me take you to safety". The young man raised and dragged her to her feet. He led the way where some older women tried to help and the women and left Éohil to their care. "Please, take care of Éohil. She has lost all she loved."

He wished he could do more for her that he could help the sick. Even if his heart was sick with the pain around him he was a warrior. He was not trained to heal their wounds, but to kill their enemies, to protect them. He had failed them.

The rest of the time he organized the burial of the dead, the clearing of the supplies and the transfer of the survivors. The village was utterly destroyed and no one would live here for a long time. It was a very long day, and the previous incident, the scene of the maiden fled his mind.

The Third Marshal of the Mark remembered her again when they reached the end of the day. The sunset painted the sky red. They had one more thing left to do before they left; the burial of the dead. Too many innocent faces were lying on the ground with their eyes closed. Too many people that should be singing happy songs and dancing and laughing, were to be put to their last resting place. He looked into the ashy faces, and then he spotted her. Éohil was there, next to the dead Fram. For a moment he did not understand, but then he sighed. She had chosen not to live alone.

 _AN:Reviews are welcome! Six more tales of war are coming up._


	3. There was a strangeness in the horn

_**AN: Eowyn welcomes her brother back. Second day of Terrifying Tolkien. Prompt: There was a strangeness in the horn.**_

 **Edoras, TA 3019**

The day was a typical February day; sunny but cold and windy. The golden hall was always cold these days. It had not always been that way, Éowyn could remember many winters that the fire would crackle and she would play pranks to her brother and steal sweet pies from the kitchen. However since the King had fallen sick and the troubles at their borders grew bigger, the Hall had been cold and unwelcoming despite Éowyn's efforts.

The young lady started her day as she always did. The usual chores kept her busy; making sure that a Hall as big as Meduseld is run properly required a lot of work. She never complained, she had to fulfil her duty even though she thought it was dull and lonely. Both her brother and cousin were away, fighting off the enemies that Wormtongue tried to convince them so hard not to worry about. Éomer and Theodred were amongst the few to not believe him, which made their job more difficult than it should be.

The thought of her brother and cousin usually brought happiness in her heart, one of the few things that did that those dark days. However today, every time someone mentioned their names, every time a thought about them crossed her mind, an invisible hand would grip her heart. _An omen,_ she thought, _I hope they are safe._ She tried to calm herself, to reason that if anything had happened to them she would have already heard. Not that it was very likely that they were gravelly wounded; they were the best fighters Ridermark had and that made her proud and jealous at the same time.

It was lunch time when she came face to face for the first time with Grima. Something on that man made the young lady shiver. She felt snakes fill her stomach each time he spoke to her and his words lingered in her late night thoughts like poison. Éowyn could see that he had spotted her and immediately turned around and exited the hall. The cold wind welcomed her, making her shiver in her long green gown, but a frost bite was preferable to the company of that man. She decided to stay there for a while instead of risking facing Wormtongue.

The wind brought to her the voice of Edoras. Happy chattering and angry arguments reached her ears. It was the weekly market of the town that always livened the city up. She was planning to visit it after lunch, she might be lucky and find some new spices brought from Dol Amroth. The travellers were rarer than a couple of years ago, as the shadows of the East had grown longer over them all.

Suddenly a horn echoed through the valley. A rare warm smile curved the maiden's lips. The horn belonged to the Third Marshal of Ridermark, her brother was finally back. Her initial happiness was disturbed by a weird thought. The horn sounded as if it was sad, as if something was not as it should be. _Do not be silly,_ she chastised herself, _horns always sound the same. You are in a weird mood today that is all._ She really hoped that her brother was alive and safe, that no harm have come to him, but a dark thought formed in her mind. She waited anxiously at the top of the hill for his arrival, trying to calm herself.

She followed her brother's ascend to the top of the Hill as soon as she could spot him. She was completely frozen, in and out. The cold wind was having an effect on her health, but what turned her cold as a stone in her spot was the realisation that the town was falling silent at Éomer's pass. Not being able to withstand the crazy worry that started filling her she suddenly run down the stairs to meet with him at the bottom of Meduseld.

At the sight of her brother, Éowyn felt relieved. He looked healthy and unharmed; the rumours of a brutal battle that had reached them were true, if she were to judge by the state of some of his men. However, what caught her eye, was his expression. Éomer was not known for being a cheerful man, but his sister could tell that something was terribly wrong. He looked like he had lost some part of himself, he looked as if he had cried.

"Éomer…" she asked without asking: _What is wrong?_ Instead for an answer, Éomer hugged her and she got scared. When she pulled out of his embrace she noticed something that she had missed from her balcony. There was a small carriage pulled close behind him. The men driving the carriage could have had faces made out of stone, the guards looked ready to start crying. The carriage was covered with a green flag with a white horse.

The young lady run over to the cart, while everyone opened up a path for her. No one tried to stop her, all bowed their heads. When she looked under the flag she felt like she forgot how to breathe. Theodred was there, his face ashen, but calm. Her cousin that she loved as a brother, was dead.

"My lady…" someone called her, but she did not listen to what he said, all she could think was the first time that Theodred had helped her steal sweets from the kitchen. The old cook had started chasing them, waving his big wooden spoon over his head. Theodred had lifted her up and carried her outside; he was always a strong boy for his age. When they made their escape, they went at the stables and ate them in peace. Sometimes, they would go to the same spot at the stables to eat sweets even after they were older.

"He had a heroic death", her brother told loud enough that everyone around them would benefit from his reassurance, but the thought that he was a hero. But Éowyn could only think that she would never share sweets with her cousin again.


	4. Fight or Flight

_**AN: Theodred ponders on why to fight before the Battle. Third story of the series. Hopefully not so many mistakes this time.**_

 **Fords of Isen, TA 3019**

The night had been silent. All that Theodred could listen was the slow song of the river. Isen was full with water, icy cold and fast as the wind. It had been raining heavily the last days, but the last hour it had stopped. Mud was not ideal for a possible battle; it made the horses move slower. But dawn was almost upon them, and there was a chance they would face the army of the White Wizard with sun on their back.

The Prince's army was moving around him. They were preparing for the fight. They did not have another option, Saruman had seen to it. He had preyed on his people for far too long. It was time that this came to an end. His father might have fallen under false counsel, but he could see who was behind all the pain and suffering. Some of his scouts had brought back evidence of his treachery. His Uruk-hai where not afraid to show his colour any more. He would take revenge for all those children that were slaughtered.

 _Fight,_ it was the only answer. How could he possible let everyone safer as his all his legacy was burned to the ground around him? He was one of those at the court that still believed that fight was better than flight. Erkebrand was him, and so was Éomer. They were at his side, but too many had sided with Grima. The sneaky man tried to convince them that nothing was amiss among themselves, that the relationship with the White Wizard was impeccable. He would have them welcome the Orcs and give the enemy armies directions to the Rohirric cities, to kill and rape as they wish. He would have them all turn to flight in front of the truth.

No, this was the only choice. They had the higher ground, they had the best opportunity to defeat their enemy. Still, the Prince of the Mark could see too many young faces around him, too many men that had dreams and families to return to. He knew that at the end of the day, not all of the present people will dining with the living. Sadness fell on his heart and he wished things were different. He wished his father was not sick, that their neighbours were not their foes, that the sun was shining and the men were laughing.

 _Someone has to fight for men not to be sick, for not having foes, for the men to laugh. Some people have to sacrifice themselves for the rest to be merry and safe. We cannot all flight, it is our duty to fight. And fight we will._

The Prince of Ridermark ordered the men of his army to cross the river and attack the enemy forces. The day would belong to them, they would come victorious out of this battle.


	5. Look at your Kingdoms

_AN: Prince Imrahil is informed of intruders._

 **Dol Amroth, TA 3014**

A new raid was taking place at his territory. Prince Imrahil felt rage rising within him. The corsairs from Umbar were becoming bolder as the time passed. They dared to come to raid half an hour distance of his city walls. They did not fear Gondor's wrath anymore; they would linger celebrating their acts against Dol Amroth and Belfalas careless. Imrahil was furious.

"Prepare my horse. I will teach them a valuable lesson." The Prince of Dol Amroth announced.

"Father, it might be a good idea for someone else to go. I could go, Amrothos or Erchirion. I am sure the acting Prince's presence is not needed." Elphir was always logical and cautious; when his time came he would be a good ruler of Dol Amroth and Belfalas.

"No. This time I will go." Declared Prince Imrahil. He would not let these savages slaughter his people he needed to be there to make sure that they were thrown off his coast. Elphir was a wise young man. He knew he would not change his father's mind. He prayed to the Valar that he would not be the acting Prince in a fortnight from now.

The knights Prince Imrahil commanded to go with him were ready to leave the city within the hour. Under the steady lead of their Prince they reached the small village fast. As predicted the corsairs were too drunk to notice their arrival. The Swan Knights swept them like fire would burn down dry wood. None would survive to tell the story of the Prince attacking his enemies. No news would arrive to Umbar about this raid party. The officials would guess of the outcome and the families of the pirates would yearn for their beloved ones' return for the years to come.

After the battle Prince Imrahil walked among the dead. He was a good leader of armies and a competent fighter, but he did rejoice in killing men unlike his nephew, Boromir. He did not believe there no glory to be won, and if there was, the price was too high. Now that his fury had subsided he could see that luck was in their side. His reckless commands could have them killed. The raiding party was bigger than usual and the assault more carefully organized. Still they had managed to come out of this skirmish as winners and that was all that mattered now.

"My lord", the prince turned around to meet one of his knights, "we found the leader of corsairs. Alive."

The Prince of Dol Amroth followed his captain. Towards the end of the battle, they had pushed the remaining of the corsairs at the beach. Their blood was washed away fast by the merciless sea. At the end of the beach he found two of his knights guarding a mortally wounded man. One of his healers tried to keep him alive but his enemy's condition was too bad. Imrahil hoped that he could talk with him, he wished to try and learn as much as he could.

"I am Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. To whom am I speaking?"

"Your enemy, the man you slaughtered." Responded the wounded man.

"You slaughtered my people first. Do not try to act the victim, captain". Prince Imrahil's voice was cool, his eyes two shards of ice. "The people you murdered here were innocent people, just fishermen gaining their living off the sea".

The man chuckled. "You call us murderers while you have been slaughtering us like pigs".

"We have not. Not even an Umbar man has died while I serve as Prince outside of my country." Prince Imrahil did not like warfare and he had forbidden all assaults to enemy grounds. Not that they had time to attack, their enemies had them under constant pressure. "Are there more raiding parties nearby? What route did you use to reach the beach?"

The enemy just laughed. He coughed some blood at the same time that one of his knights pressed his blade against his neck. "Answer the Prince!"

"Watch your Kingdoms..." Their prisoner started talking in common tongue, heavy with Umbar accent. "What are they? Nothing. They were impenetrable and now..." More coughing caused him to spit out some more blood. "...we can enter it as we wish. Look at them as long as you can. Because your Dol Amroth will not be standing for long. We are coming."

Imrahil's knights tried to take out the answers they wanted but to no avail. The corsair was dead without speaking another word to them.

The Prince of Dol Amroth returned home with a heavy heart. It was true, Gondor was weak and Dol Amroth was not strong enough to protect its people. Prince Imrahil looked at his children and grandchildren, faces that he cherished more than anything else in his life. They had been informed of his return and they had been waiting to have their supper with him. His oldest son looked relieved to see him back, he was not eager to become acting Prince just yet. Amrothos and Erchirion wanted to know all that had happened and Lothiriel tried to fead her nephew. Imrahil loved his family and finally felt peace being among them. He vowed to keep them and their future safe. It would not be easy but he would try. Someone had to.

 _AN: Reviews are always welcome!_


	6. Something wicked this way comes

**Something Wicked this way comes**

 _AN: Lothiriel notices trouble approaching._

 **Dol Amroth, TA 3016**

"My lady! We have to go back!" a Swan Knight called to his lady. Duilin had sworn to protect Princess Lothiriel with his life and he did not mean to break his promise. Lothiriel had put to the test his abilities many times in the past. For some reason she seemed prone to attract trouble.

"Sir Duilin, it is only a small breeze. I am sure that our great ship can handle more dangerous weather than that", Lothiriel loved to sail, unlike her older brothers than all loved horses. She was a competent sailor and if she was born a man, she would lead her father's navy. However, she was a woman with some freedom to do as she wills in a society of men. Duilin had noticed the same trait in most of the strong women of the high society: they had to prove their worth to the lords, even when it was not necessary. Sometimes, those strong willed women were as dangerous as cocky young men in front of beautiful women. Sometimes, they did not want to acknowledge that they had to give up.

"My Lady, it is not only a breeze. You know the weather and the sea better than me, you have studied it longer. I am sure, you can recognise the potential danger that there is". Lothiriel frowned, and Duilin knew that she was about to object. "But, even if you are not scared, please think of the crew. Do you think that they or their families should suffer because their captain ignored a potential dangerous situation and took no measures against it?"

Lothiriel stopped to think for a moment and her guard knew that he had convinced her to turn around. Lothiriel had willed, and an ever present desire to prove herself to the incompetent lords of the society she had to interact with, but she was not heartless. Duilin had been protecting her since she turned 8 years old, and he knew that she cared about people, she was kind and willing to help. She lucked wisdom in some cases, but who was wise when they were 17 years old?

The young lady sighed. "Fine, let us go back to harbour. My crew is small, but it does not worth the chance of anything bad happening to them. Captain, we should turn back". Without hesitation she started giving out the orders necessary for their return journey to her crew of her small vessel. _Sea breeze_ was not a warship, rather than a small vessel for good transportation between Guarded Towers. Duilin looked fascinated how she managed everything. All her commands had to go through the captain and owner of the _Sea Breeze,_ but he never complained about any of her decisions. The Swan Knight could tell that the captain was proud; he was her sailing instructor after all. Soon after that they were on their way home.

When the things calmed down a bit and the ship was on its way back, Lothiriel stood at the back of the vessel looking at the open sea. "You were right Duilin, there was a storm coming this way. I was foolish not to recognise it."

"No, my lady. You are still learning, remember?" he tried to console her. She offered him a smile.

"Thank you. I think that you have a higher opinion of me than I truly deserve" and with that she continued staring at the forming storm. After a while the wind picked up and her cape waved behind her like a huge flag. She did not seem concern with that though; her gaze had been fixed to a specific place in the horizon. "Captain!" she called, "do you see what I see? Over there" she pointed the direction to both her sworn sword and her trainer.

The captain of the _Sea Breeze_ was faster than Duilin. "I am afraid so! Take cover, my lady, your training for today is over". He turned immediately to the rest of the small crew. "We are pursued! We have to reach the harbour and fire the alarm!"

"We do not know if we are pursued" Duilin warned him "If we raise a false alarm to the city…"

"I would rather move as if we are pursued by all the devils of Umbar till we reach the defensive line than leave it to luck" and with that he started screaming orders to the sailors.

The ship started moving faster, but so did the enemy ship. Both Lothiriel and Duilin could see now that the enemy ship belonged to the corsair fleet. The Knight wished he could something more to help, but as Lothiriel noted, he could not and thus he should try and stay out of everyone else's way. He hated being useless, but he had to be calm to support his protégé when time came. Lothiriel looked very calm. The rain that poured down on her seemed not to bother her at all; but Duilin could tell that she had started to panic. She never had been in an immediate danger before, he had made sure of that.

It started raining heavier and the enemy ship was gaining ground. If they had not turned around before, they would have run into them. Lothiriel shivered in her jacket. "What will happen if they get us?" she whispered her question.

"They will not".

"But what if… what if they come too close, what if they get to us?"

"We will all make sure that they do not get you. We will find a way to hide you or then hide your identity for as long as possible". If the daughter of Prince Imrahil was caught their enemies would have a huge leverage against both Dol Amroth and Gondor. Lothiriel was a more important person in the country than she ever thought herself to be. "But they will not get us. Look! We are crossing into the defensive line; the battleships will be warned and our enemies will be chased away".

What Duilin had just mentioned was true. Dol Amroth was built within a natural bay. On the outer edges of the bay, towers charged with scouting the area where built. Whenever a ship crossed into their line of sight, they were safe. They would alert nearby warships, or if need be they could attack ships themselves. The captain of the _Sea Breeze_ signalled the closest tower. A light signal came back to them. "They were alerted. They order us to proceed into the safety zone and go over the Tower to give them a description of what happened" Lothiriel translated. She had to learn to read and send the messages when she started her training in sailing. It was important that all captains knew them. Soon after that, they were safe.

The following day, Lothiriel was sitting in her family's private salon. The storm was over the city since early morning and it was so cloudy that it felt like it was night even though it was midday. She tried to focus to her knitting, but it was impossible. She kept thinking of the previous day and the corsairs chasing her. What if they had gotten to her? The political situation of the country would have turned really bad. Despite what Duilin thought, she was old enough to understand politics. What if they had killed the all? She did not feel ready to die.

Also, since the previous night a malicious thought had formed in her mind. _What if someone had told them that she was on that vessel?_ What if she had endangered all those good people because someone spied on her and informed her father's enemies of her habits? That was a very bad thought that had kept her awake at night and made her scared of even her shadow. Anyone could have given that information to the corsairs. Maybe it was the maid, or the kernel master or…

"Lothiriel, how do you feel today? You look very tired". She jumped to the voice, but it was only her father. She sighed and raised from her seat to hug him. Lothiriel loved and trusted her father, but she had no chance to talk with him after her little adventure had finished.

"I am not very well…" she paused for a moment. "Do not tell my brothers, but I am scared" she admitted.

Prince Imrahil let a small smile form in his face. "Are you scared that your brothers will go out there and try to gain a bigger adventure than your?"

"No!" she gave a small and very unlady like punch to her father's arm. "I am scared of the corsairs! Not of my silly brothers. Did they come for me? What if they wanted to kidnap me to harm you?" The Prince's face was serious as he hugged his youngest offspring.

"Do not worry. Noone was after you. The enemy vessel was captured and its crew interrogated. They were lost in the storm and they tried to escape it. It is true that they tried to raid the city, but they did not want to harm our family specifically". His grey eyes met hers. "Never the less, you have to promise me to not go so far out of the defensive line again. I hope with all my heart that a time will come when you will be safe to sail till Umbar, but this time is not now. You understand the political situation, don't you?"

Lothiriel looked at her knitting. She tried to make a scarf for Amrothos. Sailing came more naturally to her and the young princess enjoyed it more, but she understood why she had to do as her father wished. "I do. I will not go again sailing so far away again, father."

Princess Lothiriel made a wish that night. She wished that the war was over, and that she could sail freely in the sea. She wished she would become the Queen of the sea and she slept with that image in her mind.


	7. Back hand of God

**Back hand of God**

 _AN: After the Battle at Pelennor fields, Amrothos wonders why the Gods are so cruel._

 **Pelennor Fields, TA 3019**

The Battle was finally over. The last sunrays made the clouds look like they were on fire. Amrothos usually enjoyed the red sunsets, but today it reminded it him of blood. He wished the day would be over. He wished that he could erase the last days from his memories. He wished that never had happened. The youngest Prince of Dol Amroth had been trained for battle almost since the day he could walk. He took pride in his ability with the sword and he bragged to many young lady's that he had the best aim among his brothers. But nothing could have prepared him for what happened there.

He had participated many times to pursue expeditions of corsairs, but it was not comparable to the siege of Minas Tirith and the battle at the Pelennor fields. Amrothos could not decide which was worse, the endless wait before the beginning of the siege or the bloodbath that occurred after the beginning? The fires, the ladders, the enemies crawling up the City Walls, the screams were painful memories. He could close his eyes and all the images would form as real as he would live them again.

The battle that started with the arrival of the Rohirrim was equally horrifying. He thought he would die 45 times; 45 times he had escaped death. The battlefield had been a huge mess, unorganised and unpredictable. Suddenly, he agreed with Erchirion's complains at strategy classes: all was a huge mess with no time to form strategy and plan. His brother was wiser at twelve years old than Amrothos now at 25 years old.

 _Where is Erchirion?_ Thought Amrothos. They were fighting side by side till the time they came across a mumakil. The huge beast was hard to bring down; it took the courage of a young Rohirrim to take him down. The young man led his horse between the legs of the huge animal were he cut his leg muscles. When the beast fell to the ground it was easier to kill it, even though the young rider did join them again. After that Amrothos and some Swan Knights joined a half manned eored and tried to kill as many of the mumakils as possible. Erchirion was not among the knights he fought with.

Prince Amrothos felt panic and guilt rise within him. The constant fight for his life, the need to stay alive and in one piece, had pushed the thought of his brother away from his mind. _He could have died, and I was not there to help him._ Amrothos wanted to cry, as he frantically looked at the battlefield for Erchirion. _Where is he? Where is he? Oh, brother, please be alive!_ He crossed paths with many wounded men from all over Gondor and Rohan. He bypassed many more corpses. The dead men were horrible to look at, but he had to if he wanted to find his brother. The men lying there were not only Gondorians or Rohirrim, but also a lot of Haradrim, Orcs and other of the Dark Lord's servants had met their end there. _They look the same. We all look the same. We are all dead people, meat with no life. No nations, values or beliefs are left. Who cares now for us? No one._

"Erchirion!" he called one more time. _He is dead, I failed him,_ and the young Prince lost hope. His brother was dead and it was his fault. The Valars were cruel, he was a young man that loved horses, nothing more. He was someone who wished to have drink a lot of wine and ride from dawn till dusk. He wondered how many of the men dead around him had loved horses as much as he and his brother did. He wondered how many of those men had sisters or wife. He wondered how many of them prayed to their Gods to let them live. _Cruel Gods, why do you fail us?_

"Prince Amrothos!" a familiar voice called his name. He turned around to see one of his father's knights. "I was looking for you. Your father and brothers are worried."

"My brothers? Do you know where Erchirion is?" he moved closer the Swan Knight.

"He is heading towards the city. He has a cut across his face, but I am sure he will be healed. Both of your brothers have reunited with Prince Imrahil. Prince Elphir is helping with moving the wounded to suitable settlements" the Knight explained. Prince Amrothos felt relief. Erchirion was alive and so did Elphir and his father. He kissed the man on both cheeks to thank him for the good news that brought to him. Amrothos felt lucky for the first time since the horrible battle had started. His family was safe, and he thanked the Valars and all the gods he did not know of, for not being crueller to him.

 _AN: Thank you for reading! And reviews are always welcome. I have one more prompt from the Tumblr Terrifying Tolkien week, and two more story ideas to write. If you have any more ideas that can be included in this collection, I could write them. Just PM me or add it in comment. (If anyone would like to beta read this story for me, I would be very happy.)_


	8. All seeing stone

**_Free Day: Cursed who sees, cursed who does not._**

 _AN: Denethor II has to decide whether to use a perilous device that he had in his disposal._

 **Minas Tirith, TA 3003**

A small sparrow reached the window. It stood still for a couple of seconds and picked inside the room. It hoped that he could get some food, or even a bit of shade against the hot morning sun. The men sitting in the room did not have any food laying around, but at least they seemed to suffer equally as it did from the afternoon heat. The small sparrow never really understood what humans liked to do during their day, all the men and women seemed to have so different ideas about their daily routines in the stone city that it could not keep up. It fluttered its wing and moved closer to the shade; it did not really care about them, it liked its life. It was simple and perfectly cut for it. The small sparrow was happy.

One of the men sitting inside the room noticed the small sparrow in the window and wished for a moment that he had a life as simple as that bird. It was not an easy job to rule men or care for people that you never saw their faces or heard their names. They were numbers in a piece of paper and it was almost impossible that he would meet them. Never the less, he had to make decisions for them that was in the best interest of most of them. Decisions that were more difficult due to the threat in the East.

Denethor cursed inside him. The Orcs and the Easterlings were mustering again under the banner of their former lord. The corsairs of Umbar were braver with each passing day; Prince Imrahil's reports were ominous. At every moment they made a decision, they found out they had been misinformed of a factor, or maybe not even been informed at all. Gondor's enemies lay low and he directed all from the shadow. It was difficult for the Steward of Gondor to care for his people properly.

"Prince Imrahil's latest reports mention the possibility of negotiating with some companies of the corsairs. He said that they are willing to _form an alliance with Gondor and that they underline the fact that they are standing apart from Umbar policies_. Those are the exact words the acting Prince wrote in his report" the old counsellor stopped to take a sip of water before continuing reading the report they had received from Dol Amroth an hour before the meeting. "However, it is written in the report that the _last corsairs attacking same fish villages bore colours similar to the company mentioned before"_.

"What is the Prince's opinion?" Denethor interrupted his counsellor. He knew his brother in law well enough to know that he had enclosed his opinion on the matter in order to be taken under consideration in their discussion. Prince Imrahil was always thorough in matters like these and moreover, the Steward knew that the Prince had strong opinions for everything and especially regarding the men from Umbar.

"I quote," continued the other man after a brief scanning of the document " _The men of Umbar are not trustworthy. They are planning to betray their rest of their colleagues_ "

"Colleagues, very polite way to describe those scum" whispered one of the other men in the room.

" _or they are planning to play a game on us. Either way I suggest to hold back any enthusiasm for a potential treaty with any of those men till we learn more information for the bigger picture."_ With that the old man looked up from the letter he was holding.

Denethor sighed. Of course they had to be cautious. Imrahil hoped that Denethor knew something more of the motives of the corsairs, he the Steward after all and he was kept informed of the matters of all Gondor's regions. _What we need better insight. I need to be able to watch far,_ thought the Steward bitterly. As he heard his counsellors discuss Imrahil' report an idea came back to his mind. He needed to be able to move forward with all the information in his disposal. He needed to use any weapon he had. But he did not use all the weapons he had in his disposal.

The idea was not born at that moment. It had sprung into his mind long ago, but he had pushed aside as any random adult man would do. But as the years passed, as he had to spend more sleepless nights thinking of his enemy's plans and angering in his incompetence to predict, the idea seemed more and more alluring. After all, young Boromir might have been correct. Which man in Gondor was better trained to be able to handle the burden of such knowledge?

It was a morning almost fifteen years ago, when Boromir was ten and Faramir five years old. Denethor had some rare free time to spend with his two sons, all the family he had left after his wife death. The young boys were playing hide and seek in the room of the artefacts. All that Denethor had to do was to pretend he did not notice where they were hidden.

After a time of peaceful play, something inevitable happened. Denethor heard his youngest son scream in horror and a loud thud. He quickly moved to see what had just happened and he saw Faramir tangled in a long sheet. Dust was hanging in the air as Boromir was struggling to free his brother.

"Papa!" he screamed in despair and the younger boy started screaming louder. "I cannot take him out!"

Denethor with some deceive movements he freed his younger son from the sheet and stared down at him. Faramir was hopelessly clumsy and Denethor had no reason to believe he could turn into a good warrior. Warriors was what Gondor would need in the future and warriors they should become. He opened to speak some sense to his younger son, when Boromir interrupted him.

"Papa, what is this?" he tugged at Denethor's shirt urgently and pointed to the dark sphere that had fallen to the floor next to him. His oldest son was not usually interested in history, but Denethor suspected that he did that in order to spare his younger brother the lecture. However, he was not a man that would pass the opportunity to give his son a cultural and historical lesson of Gondor.

He leaned forward to inspect closely the sphere. It was huge, only an adult could have lifted it and that was probably why Boromir only pointed at it and had not lifted it already. It was made a dark glass with ripples on top that gave the impression to Denethor that something was stirring in the depths of it.

"That is a _Palantíri,_ son" he answered. "A seeing stone. They were made by the elves and were gifted to the Numenorians". He picked up the sheet and covered the stone before putting it back to its place. _It should be locked,_ he thought.

"Seeing stone?" asked Boromir.

"Elves?" peeped next to him Faramir.

"Yes and yes" answered their father.

"What is it doing? It looks boring"

"Why is it in here?"

"What is wrong with that stone and it hidden away?"

He raised his hand to make them stop asking questions. When they just stared at him expectantly he went on. "They were a gift and they were brought here by the founders of Gondor…"

"Elentil and his sons!" shouted his eldest son proudly.

"Yes, indeed. They used them to see things that were far away. They had placed them in secret places around their Kingdom and used them to communicate between Arnor and Gondor".

"Why is it only one?" asked perplexed his younger son.

"Good question, Faramir" he praised the boy that beamed with happiness. "The rest were lost or taken by the enemy. This is the only one safe at the hands of our family".

"Why do you not use it?" came a question that Denethor had asked as well his teacher when they went through the artefacts' collection.

"Because it is dangerous device. Only a man with very strong will can use it efficiently" he responded.

"I know a man with strong will!" shouted Boromir excited "you! You are the only one who can do it".

Denethor had smileds at his son's faith in him. It had come very naturally to him and all those years later, it still made him proud. He was thinking of these words himself lately more and more and the potential of the power of the stone tempted him. _Yes, I can do it._

"My lord? What should we do?" interrupted his musings one of the other men in the room. "They might be planning to attack the villages in the way up the city with the permission of safe passage."

Denethor looked out of the window and noticed that the little sparrow had flown away. He made his decision. He had to do it, for his family and his people. "We will talk tomorrow. You are dismissed".

The same night, the little sparrow heard some people of the stone city talking about a weird light coming out from the highest towers of the Palace.


	9. Marching Day

**_Marching Day_**

 _Lothiriel has to say her farewells._

 **Dol Amroth, 3019 T** **A**

The horns blew once, twice, thrice. She knew it was the signal that the time had come. The young lady got anxious, worried and sad. She never thought it possible to feel such terror by hearing her father's knights calling for their colleagues. It was unfair and she wanted to scream.

The time had come for Lothiriel to give her final wishes to her family. She gathered all her strength to form a smile on her face. It was not their fault they had to go to war and moreover she did not want them to have the last memory of her as an unsmiling young girl. No, she had to find the strength to be gay and frivolous for their sake. Repeating these instructions to herself, she opened the door to the room she knew the men of her family had decided to meet before their departure.

"Lothi!", cried out loud Amrothos "there you are!"

 _Do not cry,_ she instructed herself "Here I am, brother. Did you think you could go away without saying farewell to me?"

Amrothos instead of saying farewell to her, engulfed her in a bear hug that almost suffocated her, not that she really cared at that moment. "Be brave, little sister. We will be fine, we just have to kill some lunatics, but you have to survive without killing the greatest lunatic of them all: aunt Ivriniel! I would never, ever go into a fight with her, she scares me" admitted Amrothos half-jokingly, half serious.

Erchirion laughed from the corner he was sitting and Lothiriel rolled her eyes. Their aunt was a very strict woman with a certain reputation, but deep down she had a heart of gold. Lothiriel mentioned that to her brother.

"But you have to dig a lot before finding it!" remarked the youngest of her brothers and a second round of laughter echoed in the small room. She would her brothers so much, they always made her laugh and convinced her that she could enjoy life at its fullest. A tear trickled down her cheek.

"Lothiriel, you will do fine" said Elphir while giving her a less painful hug than their brother. "and so we will".

 _Will they?_ Lothiriel had heard the reports of the armies that marched against their capital and despair sat heavily on her chest.

"Lothiriel, I entrust the safety of our people to you" her father had entered the room silently "I do not expect any trouble to stir in the city, but be cautious. Trust your judgement and listen to those with greater knowledge and experience than you. Do not forget what we discussed".

How could she forget? Her father trusted the ruling to her and they had a lengthy discussion of what to do in case they lost the war. _We will not lose the war,_ Prince Imrahil had said, _but it is always better to be prepared._

"You will do great, remember to use your intelligence. A trait that you possess in the highest degree while none of your brothers have even a bit to show off with". Shouts of protest from his sons followed his comments, but he paid no attention to them.

Lothiriel tried to form a sentence, but all her ability to speak had left her. _Be careful. Come back, I love you all,_ was what she tried to tell them.

"Do not worry too much about us" Imrahil hug his only daughter. "We will all come back, safe".

"And unharmed. Except maybe Elphir. If his sweetheart's brother finds out about them, he will break his teeth". Amrothos' comment gained him a punch by Elphir. Lothiriel wanted to cry. She was supposed to be the one to lift their spirits and yet they were the ones who made her laugh. On the other hand all her brothers were buffons, while she was not.

The horns sounded again and they had to go. She wished they had not. As they exited the room they looked so brave, they looked like they could bring the dark lord down by themselves.

Only when the dust from the departed horses settled down she remembered she did not tell them how much she loved them.


	10. All shall fade

_Eowyn decided to go to war._

 **Edoras, 3019TA**

She would not stay behind, not again. This was the last time she was tasked with caring for the old and the frail. She promised herself, this was the last time she remained back, while other people fought all their fights for her country.

She was conflicted; she was given a duty, even though it was not the one her heart longed for. She had to lead their people to a safe place. She was a daughter of house of Eorl and she would do as it was expected from a member of it. She would not let her forefathers down.

Eowyn was dutiful, but she was brave and strong. She yearned to be in a battle, not hidden in the mountains. She longed to hear the gallop of the horses on the field and the singing of the horns in the morning. She wanted to prove that she was as strong and brave as her brother. Even better, she wanted to have Theodred's glory; he gave it all defending his country and their ideas. She couldn't stand it to wait to die, like prey.

This is the last time they left her behind. She wished to die with a sword in her hand and so it would happen.


	11. Stars hide your fires

**Stars hide your fires**

 _Prince Imrahil worries about his wife's safety._

 **Dol Amroth, 3015 TA**

"I don't understand what takes them so long…" Prince Imrahil was pacing impatiently in his office. Prince Elphir, along with his assistant, Bergil, were observing him from their usual positions: Elphir sited opposite from his father chair and Bergil by the wall, far enough to not be noticeable and yet close enough to assist his Prince efficiently.

"Elaine should have been back by now!" the Prince stopped pacing in front of the window and tried to see whether a ship was coming back into the port. _She left with horses, so with horses she will be back_ , he reasoned with himself _._

"Mother always takes her time" Elphir tried to calm down his father. He knew how much he loved his mother and how much he tended to worry about all of them. "Most likely there were more sick people than the report informed us of."

"Those are dangerous times, with all these raids that are happening the last two years… what if they were ambushed?"

"My Lord, she has with her the best Swan Knights protecting her. She is safe." Bergil tried to reassure his lord. The truth was that he felt a bit uneasy the last hours. His lord loved his wife and his four children and even though he worried about them, he never was so agitated before. Princess Elaine was an excellent healer and she was never afraid to help whenever she was needed. She had been called many times in the past, and her Swan Knights were always very proficient with her protection. This time was no different than any time before; she had ridden out and come back despite Umbar's harassments to their shores.

"I am just worried." Prince Imrahil sighed. "Since Elaine is gone, I have been dreaming of the same dream… I was walking on the battlements on a clear night. Suddenly, silence heavy as a blanket covered everything and the stars above me got on fire. They burned violently for a couple of seconds and set everything around me on fire. I was frozen on my place, unable to do anything, to move, run, or scream. And as unexpectedly as the fires started, they were gone. It was like the stars were hidden from me forever and I was drowned in the deep dark sea."

Silence followed his words. None of them knew how to console him, but he didn't need any words of support. "Elphir, take Cedric and a small team of scouts to find out why your mother is not back yet. Bergil, update me about the meeting with the lords. Their problem was the price of wheat?"

For the next couple of hours he discussed with Bergil the prices of wheat, family feuds of his lords and he discussed those things with his lords that had the family feuds as well. Prince Imrahil tried to concentrate to their discussion in vain, but he couldn't get out of his mind his worry for Elaine. Instead of numbers he thought of blood and her beautiful face disfigured by terror and death. He was married with Elaine for 30 years. Their marriage was political, Prince Adrahil had arranged this part of his life as he had done for all of his children. However, Elaine was a sweet woman full of love that never had any reservation to it give away. And Prince Imrahil had given it back to her. She was the starlight of his life, the only thing that lit up his life equally being his children.

"My lords, you should excuse us. A very important appointment came up today and the Prince has to attend to it now." Protests followed Bergil's announcement. "I am sure we can arrange a new appointment with the Prince…"

"But, we have to see to this matter as soon as possible, my lord…"

"No" Prince raised his hand, thankful to his assistant for coming up for an excuse to stop earlier this tedious meeting. "I am aware of the matter's importance, and we will come back to it as soon as possible. Now, I will let you arrange it all with Bergil".

It was a rare feeling having free time for himself. The hours he could spend away from administrative, political or any kind of work were few after his appointment as the acting Prince of Dol Amorth and Belfalas. When he was younger he accused his father of not enjoying life, when Prince Adrahil was acting Prince, but now he knew better. The Prince decided that some fresh air would be beneficial for him, maybe he could spot the white swan on blue background waving behind him and bellow their standards Elphir with Elaine.

The sun was shining, but it was chilly; the day still short in January. Soon spring would be upon them. He smiled at thought of Lothiriel's excitement for the spring festival. She loved the cakes, the dancing and above all the flowers.

He noticed a small group of riders approaching the city by the beach. It was the way that his wife had left three days earlier. They were going slowly, having a cart with them, but it must be them; the standard they travelled under was their own. She is finally back; Elphir found her. The thought should have filled him with joy, why did he feel like a cold hand was squeezing his heart?

When the party approached the city walls and went through the gates, he could not stand it any longer. He left his post and with his limbs heavier that lead, he made his way to the courtyard. _Everything is alright. She is alright. She is bringing back some sick person that needs her attention for longer. It has happened before, no indication that there was a raid._ But no logical thought could remove the sense of doom in his heart.

The leader of the party was Elphir and Cendric. Imrahil met them at the courtyard, and he didn't need to see their empty expression, the deathly silence that followed up the city or the aged faced of his son that only grief can cause. In silence he approached the cart. As he lifted the cover he knew whose face he would encounter, he had seen it on his dreams and he knew it all along. The stars had hidden their fires and he would never see them again.


	12. Wild Hunt

**Wild Hunt**

 _Eomer goes Orc Hunting._

 **Edoras, 3019TA**

The day was chill and the night would be even chillier. The night frost was settling down on the grass and the last light of the day made the sky look bloodied. _Even the sky bled the last days,_ thought Éomer. He had found refuge at the stables, taking care of Firefoot. The battle the day before was cruel and tiring. A lot of brave men had bled to death, Theodred among them. An invisible hand gripped his heart when he thought of his cousin. He couldn't imagine a world without his cousin in it.

"Éomer, you shouldn't have left" his sister called him from the stall. She was dressed in black, a color that made her look dead. _Maybe we are all dead and we don't know it yet,_ he thought.

"I couldn't bare it anymore" he rubbed Firefoot's neck thoughtfully. "My cousin is dead".

"Our cousin", she was standing now next to him. "I cannot bare it anymore, either" her voice a whisper. The young Marshal for a moment thought that she didn't only mean the heavy silence in the mourning hall, or the aging uncle that both loved as a father, or the tomb that will be the house of their last true family they had left. For a moment, he thought that she meant something else, something darker.

 _It is just a shadow. Venom in our uncle's life and poison in our land. It will pass, we will get rid of it, and soon._ He wanted to comfort her, but what use were words?

"My little sister…" his voice wavered a bit.

"My lord Marshal!" a young rider called him from the stall's door. Éowyn withdrew to the shadows, away from the light. "You have to come now to the Hall! There is a rider, a scout and has a report… please come!"

He forgot of Firefoot and his sister. He could tell from the panic in the soldier's tone that it was something important, a report that now that Theodred was gone, only he could take care of properly as the snake was not to be trusted. At the memory of his cousin a nauseous feeling took hold of him. _I should have died with him. I should have died instead of him._

In the Hall, on the foot of his aging uncle's throne there was a scout. The mud on his cloak was still fresh and not dried out, and his voice was still hoarse from running up all the stairs to Meduseld. "My lord, it is a new band of Orcs, I swear of it. They look fresh and unharmed and most importantly they come from the West".

"And what do you wish from your lord?" Éomer hadn't noticed Grima standing next to the throne. He had the ability to melt into the environment, get lost, disappear and only appear when he could sense the opportunity of gain. He hated the man.

"I…" the scout looked confused at Wormtongue. "They are in haste, my lord Grima. They are in a great mission for the White Hand. I understood we were at war and I wanted to request for help to stop them".

"And all this information you deduced it from what you saw?"

"Yes, my lord" the scout seemed even more confused than before.

"And you want to hunt them down?"

"Yes, my lord"

"No."

"No?" a lot of grim faces and one full of hatred turned to look at Éomer where he stood. "Are we going to let the Orcs roam freely our lands? Are we going to let the enemy do as he pleases? While we are at it, why don't we let them take a pick of our horses and give them an escort to the borders to the West?" Anger rose within him. He couldn't understand why any man of the Mark would wish to let their enemy have a walk through their fields. Especially, after what happened to them the last year.

"Ha ha, Éomer son of Éomund you are so funny" no one else laughed with Grima. "We cannot do anything, because we are weak." He turned to look to the King. "We lost too many men already, among them our good Prince… We don't have the power to go on a wild hunt".

"Last time I check, I was a Marshal of the Mark, and not Grima. And as a Marshal, I know that we can go on a _n Orc hunt,_ even though we lost a lot of our good men. I can go and get rid of them with my eored".

"And I am responsible for the safety of the King. If you go to hunt some Orcs, then who will protect our King? You wish to abandon your capital and blood unguarded?"

"I…"

"That is an order" those words silenced him. They came from the King. He wanted to disagree, to argue, to shake him to his senses, but Éowyn's face told him not to. She had followed him silently into the Hall; when had the young rowdy girl become so stealthy? She moved like a shadow those days. Taking her advice he turned around and got out of the hall with a short bow to the King.

Hama and Éowyn had followed him to the terrace. Éothain joined them soon afterwards. The Third Marshal of the Mark inspected the plains of his homeland in the twilight. They looked like they were haunted, haunted by war. A feeling of terror and imminent death seized him, it shook him urgently even though he couldn't tell what he was exactly afraid of. It was not the first time a band of Orcs had passed through their lands.

"What will you do?" Éowyn inquired with a harsh tone. She knew him better than he knew himself. She had already known the decision he would take before he took it.

"Hama, bring the scout to me. Éothain, prepare my eored, we leave before dawn. We go on a wild hunt".


	13. The iron Price

**The Iron Price**

 _Boromir reflects on why continue to fight_.

 **Osgiliath 3017TA**

The end of a battle is always calm, awkward. You never want to sit alone, and yet, you cannot stand to see other faces. For some reason the devastated faces of the living were always harder to look upon than the faces of the dead. Boromir understood. He felt the loss deep in him, and most importantly the guilt that came with it.

"Captain!" he turned around to face Beor, his second in command "Everyone is settled. The scouts are out, the team for preparing the dead for their last journey have started their work and the healers tend to the wounded".

"Thank you Beor" he looked at his bandaged face. He had taken a wound over his left eye. It looked painful, but the young man did his best to ignore it and carry out his duties as normal. "You should rest now. You have earned it, we all have".

He let him to rest; Beor was a man with a rare mix of motivations. He wanted to defend his homeland the best he could and at the same time he never could imagine himself doing anything else throughout the day. Boromir had to drag him sometimes to a tavern in order to relax; not even Faramir worked as hard as this young officer.

He started walking through the ruins only stopping briefly to exchange a couple of words with his soldiers: a small word of encouragement to one, a word of consolation to another. Gratitude to all of them for risking their lives.

Without realising it, his feet brought him to the main square. Ruins of a glorious past, Boromir thought, and not for the first time. The city was a reminder of the jewel that once was, the power and the money the Kings always had. He wondered if people were happier when a King was sitting on the throne and there was no need for a steward.

Among the ruins, their dead soldier where lined up carefully. They were cleaned from blood and they were positioned in a calm position. Most of them looked peaceful, like they were sleeping. If it wasn't for their swords and the flowers in their hands, he could trick himself believing they were alive.

Boromir wasn't the only living person that had come there. Lonely men or groups of men sometimes where kneeling next to a friend that had passed. Some were crying visibly, but most were sitting with their head in their hands. A few seemed to say a silent prayer.

Slowly he walked among the rows of his fallen brothers. He knew most of their faces, he always tried to know his soldiers, to not be an unknown leader for them, but someone who cared. He knew some names as well. He noticed one of his officers and he felt guilty: he had three young children, a boy and two very happy girls. None of them would smile for a while. He could only hope that they had enough time to have happy memories with their father. The happy memories always stay with us, even when the loved ones are long gone.

There were some days that he wondered whether all this bloodshed was useful. There were some nights that he lost all hope and his heart was convinced that all they did was in vain. They would all die and darkness would take them. Then, there were moments, brief dark moments that he didn't dare to share them even with his little brother. During those moments he believed with all his heart that there was nothing to fight for, that Gondor is a crippling country with nothing left to envy her for and that her people didn't care anymore. Her people didn't deserve to be saved. What were they afterall? The lords were a bunch of frightened men that tried to talk their way into high positions. The merchants tried to dry the common folk, and the common folk had nothing to care for, no wish to improve.

But then he would remember all the kids playing in the corners of the streets, and their mothers that showered them with love. He would see again the merchant that baked extra pies to give for free to those in need. He would see the lord that would try hard to figure out a more efficient way to plow the fields. He would see the sun shining and he would hear people laugh, drink and love each other. And then he knew that he was silly before; it always worth it giving ones life to defend his city and country and he would gladly pay the iron price to save them all.


	14. Beauty is terror

**Beauty is terror**

 _Éowyn tries to help a girl._

 _Caution, rape implied, but not graphic details in the story._

 **3016TA, Edoras**

Éowyn was in the weekly market. It was one of the few things she enjoyed in her life in Edoras; the people coming from the nearby villages to sell their produce, homemade baskets, and to buy sweet pies, jewelleries and small trinkets for the house. She liked walking among the stalls and hear the chat of the women and touch the finest products Rohan had to offer.

She was browsing through some bronze brooches when she heard the call of a horn. By the second blast, she knew it was Éomer. For a moment she thought to join the crowd that headed for the road that her brother's eored would pass from. However, she knew how popular he was and that a lot of young maiden's as well as young boys would push themselves to a huge mass of people to see him pass. Instead, she turned around and made her way up the hill.

She arrived at the Royal Stables just before they did. She heard the chatter of the men; happy to be home and spend a night in warm beds, and with mead to warm them after the November chill.

"Éowyn!" her brother crushed her in a bear hug.

"You will suffocate me!" she pushed him back playfully.

"How are things in Edoras?"

Her smile faded and that was all he needed to know to understand.

"Same as always" she paused trying to forgot her uncle's sickness. "Theodred isn't back yet".

"It is a pity. I very much wished to speak to him" They were interrupted by Eothain who asked for some instructions. Éowyn looked around the stable grounds that now were emptying from people when she noticed a small frightened girl hovering at the edge of the circle. Her clothes were filthy and torn into places, her face was bruised and she tried to make herself as small as possibly; and yet Éowyn could see how beautiful she was. For a moment she fell jealous of her pretty hair and smooth skin. She had eyes that could haunt every single person she ever met. She brushed that thought away; the young girl was in pain.

"Ah, you noticed, Leofwyn" Eomer's gaze was serious. "Will you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Please, take her in your service. Poor girl, she lost all her family at the raid. And even worse those filthy bastards…" his voice was full of anger. "they had to take turns with her…"

She might have been a member of Eorl's line, but she wasn't overprotected like the Gondorian ladies were. She knew what her brother wanted to say. She wished she had those men in front of her. She would carve them up like pigs and serve them with tonight's stew.

"Don't worry, brother. I will take care of her" without sparing another moment to her brother, she approached the girl. Eothain was trying to convince her that it would be good for her to go up the Hall and have some hot soup. He was kind, but the huge man scared her so much she was on the verge of tears.

"I will take over, Eothain. Please go and rest, you deserve it".

"My lady, Leofwyn" he bowed a bit to both of them that made Éowyn to want to laugh.

"Hello, I am Éowyn. You must be Leofwyn".

"Yes, my lady." She seemed less tense now that she spoke with another woman, but still not relaxed.

"Éomer told me that you have lost your family and your home. He asked me to take care of you".

"Yes, my lady."

"Come, let us go up the Hall and have some food before the men eat everything up".

"The Hall?" her voice had turned even lower than before, but the fear in it was audible.

"No, not the Hall" Éowyn felt sorrow and anger, anger for those who scared her so much that she doesn't even want to be around her own people anymore. "We will go to my room. There we can eat, while we have a bath prepared for you. I will call our _lady_ Healer to have a look at you".

"Yes, my lady".

"And please, stop calling me, lady. I am not very ladylike, as you will soon find out".

Leofwyn needed a couple of weeks before she started opening up to Eowyn. They spend a lot of time together knitting and sewing; activities traditionally done away from men. First she talked of her home; how beautiful it was in spring when all the plants she loved taking care of flowered. Then she described to Éowyn their markets. They were not as big as those in Edoras, but she could always buy fresh spinach pies. When Éowyn told her that she hated spinach, Leofwyn laughed and told her how she had tricked her young brother into eating it. On her behalf, Éowyn told her how Éomer had tricked her into eating her potatoes once. He had said there was a rabbit that ate them. Slowly, but steadily, she opened up, talking to Éowyn and other women, for poetry, gardening, knitting and pies, but never about what happened to her. And Éowyn never asked.

One night they had a small dancing gathering prepared at the Hall. It was her cousin's ideas. He hoped that the music, mead and dance would lift people's spirits that were low not only because of the long, cold nights, but also of the shadow of war. The tales of war were thick in their minds those days, and he had hoped to dispel them for at least one night. Leofwyn joined the Hall that night, and even though she refused to dance, she didn't tremble like a leaf when Eothain made polite conversation with her. Éowyn was happy that she found the courage to go on with her life, but again she was sad because she could tell that she would never be able to find joy again.

January was cold, colder than usual. Was it only the cold winds that made her feel chilly to the bones, or the silence at the hall and the frail King? Éowyn couldn't tell. She heard two blasts, an eored was back; she recognised her brother coming back to the city, but she had to finish her task of warming up the Main Hall.

"Éowyn!" he called her name silently, as everyone did those days. No one spoke in normal volumes in the Hall those days, let alone laugh. When he reached her, he hug her briefly. "How are things here?"

"The same. How were things where you went?"

"The same". He sighed. "Actually, I have another girl in my care that was treated by those dogs like Leofwyn. Do you think you could help her as well?"

"I am not sure I can help her. But I know who could help her" she answered with a sudden inspiration. Éomer raised his eyebrows, but followed her at the back of the Hall and to the servants' rooms where women prepared the midday meal and sew battle garments. "Leofwyn, please come with me".

"Éomer and his men didn't come alone back to Edoras. They brought someone who needs you".

"Me?" the beautiful girl looked confused.

"Yes. You are the only one who can help her, who can understand her. I know that you know inside you what you can do for her. Will you take care of her?"

The look in her eyes was surprised, then angry, then sober again. She looked aged; older than her 16 years. But also she looked determined and wise. "I will do my best, Éowyn".

Éowyn was certain that she would her best. If Leofwyn couldn't help her, then no one would. And she did. And both girls grew confident and happy and helped a lot of other emotionally sick people heal, and they lived a lot of long and happy years, full of laughter till the end of their lives.


	15. Blood is thicker than water

**Blood is thicker than water**

 _Erchirion has to make a choice._

 **Fields of Pelennor, 3019TA**

Blood was flowing like a river. It formed a lot of tiny streams that sprung from everyone's bodies, from the most unexpected places; from an eye, the inner thigh, a kidney, the index finger. All blood streams ended to the same place; mudding the earth, soaking it till the core. _We wear different colours, but yet our blood has the same colour,_ thought Erchirion.

The young Prince slashed another of his foes; a red snake adorned his breastplate. His blood escaped his body from the place he had cut his throat; same colour and consistency as the Swan Knight bleeding to death next to him. He wished all their enemies' blood was forming rivers on the ground by now. He wasn't a bloodthirsty man, but he was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of killing, tired of blood.

Another enemy took the previous, dead now, enemy's place. And then another and another. Blood sprayed everywhere, it covered Erchirion's face, neck, armour and sword. Without real worry, he wondered if some of the blood belonged to him. Most likely it did.

 _I could really bathe in blood if I wished,_ he slashed another enemy; an Orc this time. Tall and muscular and with brute force. The fowl creature was so eager to cause him pain, he was suddenly motivated to kill him. _But why?_

A commander _…_ the Prince saw the commander of the Orc's Unit no more than fifty paces away, regrouping and encouraging his men. All the Orc around him looked energised, full of adrenaline and a renewed thirst for blood. The Swan Knights' blood. _If I kill the Orc Commander, then I will save my men's lives. They will lose their courage; he is what holds them together._

He only needed to take a couple of paces and he was there. He knew he could do it, he was the best trained killer present in area around them. Prince Imrahil knew what it would be required from his son in the bleak future, and he had prepared them for their dreadful task with iron will. Erchirion could see it all unravel in front of the eyes of his imagination. He knew which steps to take, and which not to take. Where to cut and where to expect to duck.

The prince took a deep breath, while the wind howled in his ears painfully. _Even the wind is defeated by the violence going on._ But, the voice of the wind was oddly familiar, a tone and depth he knew all his life. The wind sounded like Amrothos.

In fact it was Amrothos. He was fighting close by, or was fighting. Now, his little brother was kneeling down and had his head on his hands, blood flowing from his forehead. Where was his helmet? He was alone; an inactive man in a sea of violence. What if the enemies around him, reached him, before he could stand up on his feet again?

The Orc Commander roared a battle cry that chilled his blood. Trouble for his men was brewing behind him. Amrothos tried to stand up, but he had to kneel to the ground again. The Orcs joined in their Commander; their shouts sounded like the mountains would come on top of them. His little brother still couldn't regain his balance. Where would Erchirion go? To the annoying little brother or the foe?

With a sigh, Erchirion dashed to his little brother side. He was annoying, but they shared the same blood. Once by his side, he pulled him to his feet. "Come on, Amrothos, stand up you little shit".

"If momma was alive, she would have made you eat pepper".

"If momma was alive, we wouldn't have a war". He looked around him. "Where is your helmet?"

"I lost a while ago. No idea where it is though".

The battle sounds were louder now behind them. The regrouped Orcs were spilling his Swan Knights' blood. Erchirion decided that he would make Amrothos feel really bad for being picked over the Orc Commander. But later, when they would be drinking ale and ride their horses along the beach. First, they had to water the earth with more Orc blood.

"I am so tired", Amrothos' voice was a tiny whisper.

"So am I".

The Princes went to meet their foes.

 _AN: I have a couple more prompts for stories that I will post the following weeks. If you have a prompt idea for a story to be added in this collection, add it as a comment or PM me :D_


	16. Heal

**Heal**

 _Aragorn visits Eowyn one more time before he marches to the Black Gates._

 **Houses of Healing, 3019TA**

"All you need is time to heal. You don't need to worry, you don't need to think of the past. You don't need to look over your shoulder for enemies, you don't have to march tomorrow. You don't need to fight anymore. You are safe here, no one will touch you or drag you to a dark corner".

The young woman said nothing. She didn't blink or move, her face an unreadable mask without emotion. She never turned to look him. He had seen it before; he had seen it all before. It was the taint of war and too many people before have suffered from it.

Aragorn felt her pain as his own. He had seen it all before, and most of it was not unknown to him. And yet, there were a lot of things that he couldn't know, how could he? He was a man living and fighting among men, while she was a woman marching through their own twisted world. Eowyn was a daughter of Kings, but still she was alone. He wished he could offer her more, but he could not walk the whole path with her. No one ever could.

"Eowyn, look at me" he lifted gently her chin, he faced her empty eyes. "All you need is time to heal. You have earned glory beyond recognition; songs will be sung for you " he paused before going on "You are a strong woman; stronger than most men I have ever met. You could conquer the world if you wished, but now, you need to allow yourself to heal".

Sadness crept into his heart, as she never responded. Aragorn couldn't say anything else, couldn't do anything else but hope that she would find the inner strength to leave the past behind. He hoped that their little gabble would pay off, that they would win the Dark Lord. Then she would have all the time she needed to find her inner peace.

He was opening the door of her room in the Houses of Healing, when she spoke for the first time since his visit.

"Will you look after him?" her voice was a whisper. Still she didn't look at him.

"I will protect Eomer with my own life if need be" his promise was sincere.

She nodded once but said nothing else to him.


	17. Why are you crying?

**Why are you crying?**

 _Eowyn's mother is crying._

 **East Emnet, 3002TA.**

The day was nice and chilly; not too warm, but warm enough to be allowed outside the house and bright enough for them to go for strawberry picking.

Eowyn was almost an old girl, she turned soon five years old, but still she loved berry picking. Mostly she liked it because she ended up eating so many of those. Today was an exceptional day as she loved the strawberries more than the blueberries. Red and juicy; a tiny bit sour but the cream could fix that.

The day's picking was done and they were walking home. The color of the sky was as bright as her papa's eyes. She had missed him so much. He had left only a couple of nights past; but she already wanted to embrace him and for him to kiss her goodnight.

"When will he be back?" she asked her nana, but nana didn't know the answer. "When will he be back?" she would ask Eomer, who seemed to know more than her old nana. "When he kills the monsters". His little sister would accept the answer. She was a tiny little girl and cared not for the monsters.

Her small basket was heavy, full of strawberries she wasn't allowed to eat before dinner. Oh, how proud her mama would be; she used to clean them and prepare them herself for Eowyn and Eomer. Eowyn didn't mind sharing the strawberries with her big brother, even though he didn't like sharing his toys with her. Her mama would complain when she complained of Eomer not playing with her.

She loved her mama's laugh as much as she loved her papa's bright blue eyes.

They reached their house in the middle of the town. Eowyn was confused from the mass of people standing outside their front door. It wasn't their number confusing or their presence, but how silent they were. Why were they so silent? Why did their faces look so grim?

When she heard a shriek coming from inside the house, she needed a moment to realise it must have been her mama. Why was she crying? The sound confused her and scared her; tears welled in her eyes as well.

She dropped her basket and her strawberries scattered on the pavement; red spots on top of the green grass. Before her nana could catch her, the little girl had dashed off and entered her home.

Little Eowyn had her parents' bedchamber before a member of their household caught her. She recognised in his red beard one of her father's riders. He liked to pick flowers for her and her nana. Eowyn thought that this childish for a grown man, but her nana turned pink and thanked him with a smile.

"Why is mama crying?" Eowyn demanded to know. "Did she hurt herself? I can kiss the pain away! Like she does for me".

No answer was given to her. "Mama! Mama! Why are you crying? Let me go to her!" the red bearded Rider carried her away from her parents' bedchamber and into their kitchen. If he was here, then her papa was here as well. "Where is papa? Let me go to papa! Papa!"

The rider handed her to her nana who hugged a crying Eomer. The tears in his eyes confused him. He was brave, as brave as papa and he never cried. "Eomer! Why are you crying? Why is mama crying?" Now she was scared, when she was scared she cried.

The Rider with the red beard lowered himself to her level. "Your mama is in pain".

"Did she fall?"

"No, but your papa fell".

"Did he stand up again?"

"No"

"Why?"

A small pause. "Because he cannot. You see, a very bad Orc hurt him a lot and he will never stand up again".

"But how will he come back if he cannot ride?"

"He will not come back, little one. Eomund went to join your forefathers in their glorious hall" his voice was thick with sadness and a tear run down to his beard.

Eomer sniffed loudly, even though he was ten years old, he could not stop crying. Nana hold him in her arms.

"Can we go and find him? It is such a sunny day, we can ride for sure" Eowyn was so confused, why couldn't he come back?

The day her papa had been sunny and bright, as if his eyes had covered the whole sky. The day her mother died was rainy, her tears fell from the sky and not her beautiful face anymore. Eowyn knew that day what being dead meant. None of her parents would come back again.

That night, after her mother's funeral, she crept into Eomer's room. He wasn't crying anymore; he barely cried during the day. He had no tears left. She wished she was as strong as him, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Please, don't leave alone. I am scared" Eowyn hid her face in his warm pillow.

"I will always be there for you"


	18. Death in my Hand

**Death in my hand**

 _Faramir's first kill._

3008 TA, Ithilien

From the way men talked about it, he had expected to feel glorious. To feel magnificent. He had expected to feel proud and a worthy soldier of Gondor.

 _Where was the glory in it?_

He guessed he was a worthy soldier, a valiant ranger who had just eliminated an enemy of his homeland. Faramir didn't feel very valiant in piercing with an arrow a man who run away. Faramir knew he ought to take pride in his action, but he couldn't find it in him.

The Steward's son felt terror, sadness and even though he had no reason to feel it, he felt ashamed. How was he different of his foes?

 _Why is so easy to take away someone's life?_

Faramir imagined that their lives were a flame, a weak flame on top of a candle. Their lives could be easily blown away by a breeze. How easily could he die? How easily could his brother die, his friends, his people, his father? Terror seized his soul.

All the years that passed after he killed the scout, he couldn't recall the details of his kill. How he had pulled the bow or how the arrow sounded. He couldn't clearly recall the spectrum of his emotions, the weather or the scout's empty eyes.

All the years after his first kill, the only thing he could remember was how sad he had felt to have death in his hand.


	19. Bloody thu art, bloody thu end

p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Bloody thu art, bloody thu end/span/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Theodred fell from his horse./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"3019TA, Fords of Isen/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"His hand was heavy. How many were there to slay? His tired soul and mind counted millions of foes; how many of them had Isegard unleashed on them to die?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"The bloody wizard would pay for what he did in their lands. For the suffering, pain and destruction. The ass and the tears. If only he had enough strength to go on./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Just another enemy. One more. And then another. That was what he kept telling himself. And the next, and the next after that one. His shield was broken, his shirt bloody and his sword blunt. Red was the colour he could only see. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"He led his men with fury, ahead and around, a bit back and lash out like a cornered snake. Again and again and again./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"A piercing pain on his chest. Where did this arrow come from? Was it now, before or yesterday? Time had lost its meaning. Theodred broke the tip and threw it aside. Once again the rhythm of the deathly dance set upon him. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"He did this for land, his people, his father, his cousins, his sweetheart./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"The sun reached the horizon. He felt cold and weary. Why was he so tired? It wasn't the first time he was in battle. He wanted to sleep, to forget./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"The Prince fell off his horse./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"He had to get up, he couldn't give up. Not just yet, not till all of them are gone. He tried to pull himself up, but it was harder that he expected./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Theodred wished he didn't feel so weak./span/p 


End file.
